


first time's the charm

by crunchrapsupreme



Series: eremarco week 2015 [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, EreMarco Week, EreMarco Week 2015, Frottage, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:38:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4584576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crunchrapsupreme/pseuds/crunchrapsupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years after meeting Eren, and Marco finally takes advantage of the New Year's Eve kissing cliche.</p><p>Though, it does take a <i>little</i> bit of alcohol to get him there.</p><p>-- </p><p>written for day 1 of eremarco week</p>
            </blockquote>





	first time's the charm

**Author's Note:**

> first time kissing your crush?? first time getting drunk with your crush??? first time dry humping your crush???
> 
> first times, man.
> 
> also i have a [tumblr](http://www.crunchrapsupreme.tumblr.com)

It’s become a weird tradition for Marco to come over on New Year’s Eve, ever since fucking  _seventh grade_ , when they first met as awkward preteens with braces clogging their words, and when fashion was entirely too important in the ‘cool factor’, as Jean so unhelpfully put it.

Jean’s parents started taking him to their cabin up in Colorado every New Year’s once they deemed him old enough, leaving Marco alone back home, and Armin had basically always spent his entire Christmas break at his grandfather’s house a few towns over. He’d invited Eren to come with him a few times, and Eren went, once, but it was unbearably uneventful. He felt only _slightly_ bad that he denied Armin’s invitation the next year. And the year after that.

And so on.

So when Eren befriended Marco in middle school, New Year’s Eve just sort of became an unspoken thing for them.

It’s always at Marco’s house, because Marco’s parents always go to some business party that night at his dad’s office, so the house is empty. They usually watch movies, switch to cable occasionally to keep track of the ball dropping, play shitty video games and eat shittier frozen pizza because they can’t afford to order in.

Wash, rinse, repeat the next year.

This year is a little bit different, though. Just… a _little_ bit.

“Eren,” Marco says slowly when said boy barges into his house, arms full of bottles, clinking together as he bounds over to the living room where Marco is already seated, _Nightmare On Elm Street_ already settled into the DVD player. “Those are non-alcoholic, right?”

Why he even bothers asking, he doesn’t know, because Eren just grins at him and sets the bottles on the coffee table before going into the kitchen to grab some glasses.

“Reiner got ’em for me,” Eren calls from the kitchen, and Marco winces when he hears more glass clinking together.

“We’re sixteen,” Marco replies simply, raising an eyebrow when Eren makes his way back to the living room, plopping on the couch next to Marco and immediately reaching for the bottle nearest to him. It looks like some sort of liquor, and when Eren holds it out to him after uncapping it, Marco sniffs it, wincing at the strong, sugary smell. “That smells like alcoholic diabetes.”

“Reiner said it’s good,” Eren shrugs, “Also, have you even been _drunk_ before?”

“Church wine,” Marco rolls his eyes, “That’s the extent of my alcohol intake. You’re an expert, though, I take it?”

“Nope!” Eren grins. “I’ve never even had a beer.”

“Okay,” Marco says, nodding solemnly before grabbing a bottle from the collection on the coffee table, because it’s _New Year’s Eve_ , why the fuck not? “First time’s the charm.”

“That’s _exactly_ how that saying goes,” Eren says, and then he’s clinking the lip of his bottle to Marco’s before tilting it to his mouth, chugging as much as he can because Eren is many things, but first and foremost, Eren is a _dumbass_.

The coughing fit comes immediately, and Marco tries to hold in his laughter unsuccessfully as he gently pats Eren on the back and shoves a water bottle in his face. “Dumbass, You’re not supposed to chug _hard liquor_.”

“What? Why not? Lil Jon does it in all his music videos,” Eren wheezes, eyes watering as he covers his mouth, coughing into his palm and waiting for the burn to go away, holy _shit_ , his throat feels like it’s coated in _fire_. Sugary, alcoholic, acidic _fire_.

“You need a chaser,” Marco says, jogging to his kitchen to grab the half-full carton of orange juice. When he comes back, Eren seems to have calmed down, and he’s staring at the bottle of liquor like it betrayed him, eyes wide and sad, lips set in a pout, and Marco smiles and shakes his head, shoving the carton of juice into Eren’s hands.

Eren looks up at him, then back at the juice. “Which one do I drink first? Do I mix them? Is it gonna taste bad again?”

Marco feels his face burn just a tad, because Eren’s so _cute_ , holy shit. Like a small, confused puppy who doesn’t know how to get hammered.

Adorable.

Marco scoots closer, says, “Just take a drink of the nasty shit, but open your throat so it’s easier, okay? And then chug the fuck out of the juice. It’s basically the bitch baby way of drinking, but it’s the easiest.”

“You’re not a beginner drinker, are you?” Eren asks, and there’s a glint in his eye, his lips twitching on a smirk, and Marco rubs the back of his neck, averting his eyes.

“I mean, like. Only once. Or twice? My mom lets me drink with her when we watch reruns of Gossip Girl on Thursday’s.”

Eren snorts, then suddenly grabs the bottle of liquor and chugs it again, more than he probably _should_ , and then he’s spluttering a bit as he scrambles to chug the juice, liquid dribbling down his chin and onto his shirt. Marco tries to keep his eyes from watching the long, smooth line of Eren’s neck as he swallows, tries to ignore the way his adam’s apple bobs heavily with every gulp.

Eren wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, turns to Marco, grins, and then hands him the liquor.

Oh, boy.

\--

“Holy _shit_ ,” Eren says, slumping face first into the wall. “You never told me you could make _chicken alfredo_.”

Marco snorts, and he probably shouldn’t be cooking at _all_ , let alone be standing in front of an oven, with the way the knobs keep almost blurring together. Luckily he’s almost done, and he takes the sauce off the stove and sets it aside as he dumps the chopped chicken and noodles in, sloppily mixing it up before heaving a hefty amount into a random mixing bowl he grabbed. He slumps on the floor next to Eren, and the boy perks up when he sees Marco and the food, immediately scooting closer and practically draping himself over Marco’s shoulder as he grabs for the spoon in Marco’s hand.

“’m so _hungry_.”

“You’re not supposed to drink on an empty stomach,” Marco chides, and Eren _‘psshh’s_ , resting his head in the crook of Marco’s shoulder.

“M’fine. Not even _drunk_. At all.”

“Okay,” Marco says, nodding as he holds up a spoonful of pasta and chicken for Eren to eat.

The finish off three-fourths of the pasta before deeming themselves full enough, and as soon as Marco sets the bowl aside, Eren’s crawling into his lap, tugging at the collar of Marco’s shirt and mumbling,

“You know, the ball’s probably gonna drop soon. S’it midnight yet?”

Marco just hums, glancing at the TV through the living room and sees that yeah, the ball is a few seconds from dropping, and he doesn’t know what the _fuck_ compels him to do what he does next, but Eren’s warm in his lap, his nose smushed against Marco’s neck. Marco tugs Eren back by the hair gently, and a few seconds after he hears the crowd screaming ‘ _Happy New Year!’_ on the television, he cups Eren’s face, closes his eyes, and slots their lips together.

It’s off target and a little too wet, but Eren makes this _noise_ against his mouth before curling closer, fitting himself so he’s straddling Marco’s lap on the kitchen floor, the tile cool and hard beneath them.

“Dumb,” Eren breathes once they’ve broken apart. “You’re so _dumb_ , you kissed me _after_ the ball dropped. Your timing was off.”

“By like, _two seconds_ ,” Marco splutters, and he feels so _warm_ , so heavy and prickly in the good way, and Eren’s shifting in his lap, biting the tip of Marco’s nose because he can, and when he pulls back, Marco notes how pink and flushed Eren looks. The smaller teen doesn’t seem to hold his alcohol intake very well, because he’s grinning much too wide, so big his eyes are crinkling at the edges, and no, actually, maybe he _is_ just that happy right now, sitting on the kitchen floor of Marco’s house and kissing him at 12:04 am on New Year’s.

“I kinda wanna - ,” Eren starts, and then he’s biting his lip, gripping the front of Marco’s shirt in his fists, and then he’s - _oh_ , he’s rolling his hips _down_ , and Marco gasps and lets his head fall back into the cabinets behind him with a soft thud. “W-wanna…. Marco _, Marco_.”

“What?” Marco whispers, because his voice has officially left him, and _where did this all come from_? Yeah, Marco’s probably had a crush on Eren for a thousand odd years, but -

“You’re not - this isn’t just the alcohol, right?” Marco mutters, but he doesn’t shove Eren away, instead he wraps his arms around the boy tighter, holding him close and pressing his body down as he rolls his own hips _up_ , and when their clothed hard-on’s meet, Eren lets out another sweet, high little whine that goes straight to Marco’s crotch.

“I don’t think m’even that drunk anymore,” Eren gasps into Marco’s neck, his hips stuttering in rhythm as he pulls back, and then he’s kissing Marco again, and _this_ time it’s not off target, it’s exactly fucking on point, and Eren flicks his tongue out shyly, letting Marco take the lead. Marco hums, can feel Eren’s thighs trembling as he grinds faster, rubbing them together just shy of too hard. Marco’s back is starting to ache pressed against the cabinets, and his legs are beginning to cramp, but Eren taste like shitty alcohol and chicken alfredo, and _god_ , he’s wanted to kiss Eren on New Year’s since the first fucking time they spent it together.

They come a few moments later, within a few seconds of each other, and Marco holds Eren by the hips as the smaller teen shudders against him, feels warmth pooling between their legs, and it’s going to be gross in a few moments, and in the morning it’s _probably_ going to be at least a little awkward, and they should probably clean up the fucking booze before they crash because Marco’s parents should be home in a few hours.

But all Marco can think about right now is how _sweet_ Eren looks right here in his lap, lashes long and fanning against the swells of his flushed cheeks every time he blinks, bright, glittering eyes flitting down to Marco’s lips like he craves another taste, and Marco can worry about the other shit later, he thinks as he cups the back of Eren’s neck, bringing the boy back in for another kiss.

Eren eagerly wraps his arms around Marco’s neck, and Marco just grins into his mouth.

 


End file.
